That was what she was trying to make him understand. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. He had been reading Belfort Bax, and declared himself a convert. But Manning seemed more and more clearly indicated as a refuge, as security. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste. “It jars. ’ ‘I know,’ he said, smiling. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. She hesitated about her name, and, being prompted, gave it at last as Ann Veronica Smith, 107A, Chancery Lane. Besides, by the time they were off his hands, old McClintock would be dropping in to have his liver renovated.
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